Daddy Erik?
by lavender44
Summary: Ever wonder what would happen if Erik became a father? Not E/C, or any other pairing. Just Erik. Takes place about 2 years after the fire and after Christine left. CURRENTLY ON HOLD FOR A WHILE.
1. Chapter 1

**BIG A/N: This story takes place about two or three years after the opera house burned and Christine has left with Raoul for their little happily ever after (blech). So poor Erik has endured two years returning back to his emo/opium addict self. I didn't feel like writing all that in the story, so I'm just telling you.**

**This story is a result of my wild and crazy imagination... haven't you ever wondered how Erik would do raising a kid? All by himself?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO. Erik says I don't own him either. Darn.**

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It was a late night in the middle of September, and most people in Paris lay safe in their homes, fast asleep. Erik, however, not needing any, was wide awake in front of his organ, furiously scribbling out a song he was currently composing. He found composing a great way to take his mind off of things (namely, Christine) and doing it at night was a lot more productive than during the day when all the hustle and bustle above him distracted him. At night, it was quiet, and peaceful. He sighed and began playing the tune he had written down so far. Suddenly, a piercing shriek cut through the air, startling Erik.

"WHO IS THERE?" he thundered into the darkness, mainly to instill fear in his victim. There was no response. _Probably a stupid ballet rat who has fallen into another trap, _he thought ruefully. He hated setting them free. He'd let them struggle for a while, just to learn their lesson for sneaking from above the opera house in the first place, and then came and set them free. It usually took a while to get them out of his traps even being as swift and quiet as he was, and he never enjoyed having to warn yet another rat not to speak of what she had seen down here and to never return. They always found themselves back in his trap, anyway. He'd spent a lot less time watching his traps ever since Christine had left with her fop and ever since the burnt opera house had been rebuilt. His composing took a lot more of his time, and other times he'd been knocked out by his opium when he simply needed to forget.

He sighed, put on his mask, and went looking around. After walking around for a while it had become so quiet that he began to think that it was probably his imagination. Grunting in frusteration that he had come halfway through his trap-maze for nothing and disrupting him from his work, he began to make his way back when another scream pierced the darkness.

Erik's patience grew even thinner as the shrieking grew louder and louder. _What type of person makes such a dreadful noise like that? _The noise continued to increase in volume until he found that the screams came from a basket with a blanket over it. _What is this thing?? _He lifted the cover off the basket and was surprised to see the last thing he'd ever expect to find in his trap-maze- a baby.

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"GIRY!!!" Madame Giry's eyes flew open at the sound of her name. She glanced outside her window and noticed that there was no sign of dawn coming and it was late in the night. _Only one person I know would wake me up at such an ungodly hour..._

"Giry!" Erik charged into the room through a secret door he had placed next to her mirror.

"What is the problem now, Erik?" Madame Giry asked, tired.

"_This _is the problem!" Erik held out a basket in front of her. A muffled cry came from underneath the blanket that had been placed on top of it. She gently pulled the blanket off to reveal a wailing, squirming, redfaced baby that looked only a month old.

"Oh my..." she murmured.

"She won't stop that dreadful noise!" Erik said, disgusted.

"The baby's probably hungry, Erik," she answered, picking up the little baby in the basket. She rocked the baby, soothing its cries, and it eventually fell asleep. "Where'd you find him? Or her?"

"Her," he answered, a slight blush covering the visible part of his face. "She managed to get into the trap maze."

"How?" she wondered, still holding the little one.

"Do I look like I know? Or even care?" he demanded, irritated. "I came up to give the baby to you. You can have her."

"Oh Erik, I can't..." Madame Giry said, remorsefully. "I've already got over thirty ballet girls to supervise at all hours during the day, not to mention practice and my meetings with the managers and..." Her schedule was far too busy to care for a little baby such as this one.

"Well the baby isn't staying with me!" Erik made clear.

Madame Giry sighed. "Erik, unless we find the mother, there's nowhere we can take her to. You're going to have to take care of her yourself." Both Erik and Madame Giry shuddered at the thought of the infamous Opera Ghost caring for a delicate little baby.

"I'm not a nanny! I'm a brilliant composer. I have no time for _babies,_" he said, putting emphasis on the word. "Aren't there any orphanages or anything of the sort around here?"

"Not any good ones," Madame Giry answered. "And the only ones available are out of the city."

"I'd be more than happy to place her there," Erik insisted.

"No, Erik, it'd be best if she stayed in the same place she was found, just in case her mother comes looking for her," she sighed.

"And if she never comes?" Erik inquired.

"Then... we'll see what we'll do. Now Erik, please let me sleep," Madame Giry pleaded. "I have a bunch of moody ballet girls to wake up at 5:30 this morning." Without waiting for an answer she turned her back to Erik and went back to her bed to sleep.

* * *

Erik exited her room with the basket still in his hand. The baby was back in it, still sleeping peacefully. Erik looked at the small child in the basket. _Whatever am I to do with you?_

The child continued to sleep even after he'd reached his underground lair. Now permanantly distracted from his composing, Erik looked around for a place for the baby to sleep. He knew that it probably wasn't best to put a baby in a coffin, and he remembered the swan bed. He picked up the child, who was surprisingly light, and gently placed her on the bed. She stirred only a little bit in her sleep when Erik put her down.

Looking at the small child, Erik felt the tiniest bit of compassion, surprising him greatly. It took a lot to stir the heart of the great Opera Ghost. But this little one managed to touch it... a little. He caught himself right before he went soft, and swore. _I will not get soft because of this thing! I detest all children! Including this one!! _Erik refused to warm up to the annoying squealer. He would only protect it until her mother came back to retrieve her. He sighed, and hoped that the baby's mother would hurry up and come and get her. In the meantime, he had more important things to do.

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**Poor, unfortunate Erik!! ;)**

**Review. Pretty please. :) **


	2. Chapter 2

**I've gotten some positive feedback from reviewers!! :) Here's chapter 2.**

**Disclaimer- I don't own, so don't sue.**

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Erik was currently attempting to master a difficult task- warming up a baby bottle. It was long and dragging process, making sure that the bottle was the right temperature. It was exceptionally difficult when you had a picky baby on your hands. The little thing screamed when it was too cold, and screamed louder when it was too hot. If there was anything Erik couldn't take, it was screaming babies.

It had been two long weeks since he'd found the baby in the first place. Why was he keeping the little child, anyway? Erik himself wondered that, too often. The thing that kept him from throwing the baby out into the lake was the fact that he had found some good use out of the little girl, after all. Since Erik realized that the whole 'Christine' deal didn't exactly work out, he wondered if he could transform this little one into a Prima Donna. All he had to do was train the girl once her vocal chords had matured enough. _And then, _he thought, temporarily forgetting the bottle in his hands, _my work will finally reach the surface. _

A wail from the other room brought Erik back into reality. _Stupid baby, _he thought, angrily. He grabbed the bottle, which had become a bit overheated, and went into the room where the baby lay. Although Erik was large and forboding, he was actually quite gentle with the child. The child, however, never seemed to cooperate and refused the bottle Erik tried to give her. She wailed even louder, frusterating the already frusterated Erik. Erik lost all patience and began to yell. "YOU STUPID LITTLE THING! _WHY _WON'T YOU EAT?? I HAVEN'T KEPT YOU ALIVE JUST TO STARVE YOU!"

"Um... Erik?" A small voice from the edge of the lake caught his attention. It was Meg Giry, Madame Giry's ballet dancing daughter. Erik had stayed with the Giry's after his Opera home had been burned, and eventually Madame Giry trusted Erik to behave himself around Meg enough to send her daughter in her place when she was too busy teaching or meeting with the new opera managers. Erik suddenly found it extremely embarrassing to be caught screaming at a baby that wouldn't eat, especially a man such as him. His embarrassment only fueled his frusteration. "What is it you want now, little Giry?" he growled.

"Well... my mother told me to give this to you," she told him, holding out a folded note. Erik was slightly surprised that little Meg didn't shirk away when he used that tone. People tended to do that. He then remembered that Meg had seen him angry one too many times during the time he had spent with them.

"Do you have any ideas of what this note entails, little Giry?" he asked her, taking the note.

"No, I don't," she said again, her voice gaining volume.

"Does she want an answer?" he asked again.

"She said as soon as possible," she answered.

Erik sighed impatiently. "Then _you'll_ feed the baby while I go read what your mother wants," he said, shoving the bottle into her hand and leaving the room without waiting for an answer. In the privacy of his room he was able to tear open the envelope to read the note that was inside. Madame Giry's spindly handwriting only took up half of the small piece of paper.

_Erik-_

_I've got good news. I know of a couple who would gladly take the baby. They've been married for a few years now but the wife is unable to bear children. Although I haven't spoken directly to them about this, I'm sure this child would make them very happy. Please write back about when you can send the girl to me so I can hand her over._

_Mme. Giry_

In no time at all Erik whisked out a piece of paper to write a reply.

_Mme. Giry-_

_There is no need to give the child up. I've found use for her. She is now under my care._

_Opera Ghost_

He sealed the note with his infamous wax skull and walked back out of the room to see whether Meg had succeeded in feeding the baby. Upon his entry and to his utter surprise the bottle lay empty next to the bed and Meg was now cooing over the baby.

"Wha- how did you make her stop?" he asked Meg, trying to disguise the surprise in his voice.

"She's an angel! Once I picked her up she stopped, and she finished the whole bottle! No trouble at all!"

Erik glared at the baby that now laid placidly in Meg's arms. _Stupid, annoying, little..._

"Does she have a name?" Meg wondered.

"I have no time for naming babies. I have better things to do," Erik replied, shrugging.

Meg gasped. "You haven't named her? May I name her? Please Erik? Please?"

Erik groaned. "Fine Meg. You can name her." _Anything to stop your annoying wheedling, _he added in his head.

"Yes!" Meg smiled at the baby laying in her arms. "Hmmm... you don't look like a Isabelle, or a Charlotte," she said with a calculated expression replacing her carefree one.

_I'd just pick something like Marie, _Erik thought. _Something simple._

"And names like Marie and Belle are just too common," Meg added.

_So much for that... _He looked at Meg, who was still struggling to find a nice name. _This should take about... half of my lifeteime. _He sighed impatiently, hoping Meg would catch the hint and hurry up.

"Elise," she finally said.

"Elise?"

"Elise," she answered again, with a final nod.

_Not bad, _Erik admitted. "Elise, then. Give this to your mother." He handed her the note.

"Alright." She kissed the newly named and sleeping Elise on her forehead. "Goodbye, Elise."

"Goodbye now," Erik said, pushing her out of the door. Meg smiled and skipped back to the aboveground opera house.

"Elise," Erik said, letting the name roll off his tongue. At least it sounded like a name given to a future prima donna. Erik knew he had some thinking to do about a last name for Elise, but he'd deal with that later. With Elise sleeping, he took the opportunity to go back to his organ to compose.

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**This is NOT an E/M. Meg is more of a younger sister to Erik, since she stayed with him for a year after the fire (that was in this chapter).**

**Hopefully in the next chapter (when Elise is a bit older) things can get a little more interesting...**


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